


5 Times Lucy Lane was Too Good at Sex : and one time she wasn't

by Alsike



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2021-01-01 18:24:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alsike/pseuds/Alsike
Summary: See title





	5 Times Lucy Lane was Too Good at Sex : and one time she wasn't

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like 20 minutes, after a long contemplation of the idea that Lucy uses her body like a dancer, both when she fights and when she has sex. And also is naturally, perfectly, unrepentantly bi.

[1]

Lucy Lane realized she might have a problem in high school--upper school, really, as she was in Italy, following her dad from base to base, at a boarding school. She'd snuck out with her group of international friends, gone to a discotheque, and hooked up with a handsome Italian boy, with a carefully gelled pompadour and just enough facial hair to make him look like a man.

His name was Rico, and he was sexy as all get out, and Lucy lost her virginity so quickly she forgot she'd ever had it. Rico came in his Porsche and took her on picnics and kissed her knuckles and took her home to meet his Mama, and pulled her close on his childhood bed.

It had been going swimmingly.

And then it hadn't.

"I jus-- I jus can  _ not _ no more! You are-- too much. You make me feel like not a man. You are supposed to be the prudish American girl. Why are-- are everything easy for you? I am supposed to be the sexy, the seductivo, and you steal that from me."

Lucy had gone back to her dorm kind of shocked.

"I think he dumped me," she told her roommate, an American ambassador's daughter who was two years her senior. "I think he dumped me because I'm . . . too good at  _ sex." _

Her roommate just shook her head. "Guys. Fuck'em." Then she smiled with this innocent look she always had when she was saying something particularly wicked. "Or, better,  _ don't. _ "

Lucy had laughed, feeling better about her break-up. Her eyes lingered on her roommate's dark hair and dark, liquid eyes, and she  _ wondered _ .

Maybe this wouldn't be a problem if she wasn't dating guys.

[2]

It turned out she was wrong about that too.

She got her first girlfriend from ROTC in college. This was probably a bad plan, since DADT was still in effect and they had to sneak around, but Lucy liked hot girls with serious muscles and stubborn jaws who liked to punch out men twice their weight. Her girlfriend, Tanya, was athletic and competitive. She could keep up.

She could not keep up.

Lucy had been trying something slightly more complex than usual, involving a strap on and the end of a dorm sofa, and . . . oops.

Tanya had a broken ankle and was out of drill for a month.

Lucy got bawled out and sent packing.

It was a  _ burden _ to be too good at sex.

[3]

James was actually amazing. He had none of those straight boy hangups about his cock--deservedly--and he liked to have fun in bed. He was strong enough to hold her up, and he trusted that her leg strength could handle him too.

The only thing he didn't do was dance. He tried, he wasn't a poser about it, but he wasn't all that good at it. And he just didn't like it much.

He also felt awkward being a black guy who couldn't dance. So Lucy didn't bother him about it. She just danced with other people. He said he was cool with it. So she embraced that.

She didn't notice that he might actually not be so cool with it until one night of a  _ lot _ of excellent dancing. There was this guy and this girl. Both smoking hot. They might have been twins.

In retrospect, they were in Gotham, they also might have been super-villains. But, boogying down with a super-villain is not a crime.

"Do you ever want to sleep with other people?" James had asked.

Lucy, who maybe had had too much to drink, had just grinned and answered the question. "Of course. Why? You up for it? You want to bring the twins home?"

That had ended it with his startled laugh and a quick change of subject. But in their last fight, he'd brought it up again, the best ammunition--low simmering resentment like goddamn boiling oil. The whole-- I  _ know _ you'd never be satisfied with me! You're too sensual. Just waiting until we broke up to fuck the world. You're always moving in a way that makes people want you. It's like you don't know how not to pull!

Lucy had lashed out.  _ As if I don't know that you want to fuck my brother-in-law too. _

The fact that he spent their cooling off period on National City, as far away from her as he could get without leaving the country--it wasn't really a surprise.

He'd apologized for it when they got back together, but you can't unhear something like that. You can't  _ unhear _ the fact that your fiancé thinks you're a slut.

[4]

Cat Grant took her out for drinks the last night she was working at CatCo. The army needed her back, and she had decided it was time to go sort this alien nonsense out once and for all. But the drinks were nice. It was nice to know she was valued.

Cat Grant was a fucking animal in bed. It was a good time.

In the morning Cat had sat up, draped in sheets, and glared at her with a ferocity she usually reserved for the boardroom. "I've never met someone who can keep up with me before."

Lucy had just spread her hands in acceptance of the compliment. "I have skills."

"How much do I have to pay you to stay."

Lucy had laughed. But no, Cat was serious. She was . . . excessively serious. She was sending couriers, there were job offers.

Finally Lucy fled to DC and hid out there for a few months, but it took a long time for the messages to dry up.

She has her suspicions about why Cat decided to become Press Secretary. But by then Lucy was on her way to Mars with the Space Force recon unit she was commanding, and thankfully hella out of the way.

[5]

Alex Danvers, for a super genius, was dumb as a rock. She was also super hot and athletic, and when sparring turned into dirty wrestling and Lucy had her fingers knuckles deep inside her, Alex just wrapped her legs around her hips and arched her back, supporting herself against the wall on one hand, the other working her own clit. Alex had the core strength to handle her.

It was a few times, here and there, and then, one day, she overheard Alex talking to Vasquez. "Ugh, don't talk to me about Tinder," she said. "All the guys there are like-- I feel like Kara would call them 'farts.' I can't think of anything better. All the guys there are farts. What? No, why would I look at girls? I'm not into girls."

Lucy was just like,  _ what the ever-loving fuck. _

The next time Alex had surfaced from eating her out, which she did with the sort of enthusiasm and versatility that Lucy recognized in herself, Lucy asked her about this. "You can't seriously think you don't like girls, Danvers."

Alex had laughed, inquired about the context of the question, then shook her head. "You don't count. You just ooze sex. You don't have to have any particular sexuality to want you."

"Thank you," Lucy had said. But, to be totally honest, this sounded like the kind of denial that required a team of therapists and possibly a crowbar. Still, if she left Alex with some badass lady-loving skills, she'd at least be setting her up well for the future.

[0--a false move]

If it hadn't been for James, Lucy would have been all over Kara like white on rice. Super speed, super stamina, super sexy. Kara also had the tendency to give her shy smiles that suggested she would definitely be up for it.

But it wasn't fair to move in on her ex-boyfriend's crush. 

Bucket list, Lucy decided. She'd give James a little time to get his act together, but then he better watch out. She was coming.

[+1]

Lucy woke up hungover as hell and a little puzzled about the events of the night before. She remembered that she'd gone out drinking in Gotham--always a risky situation. But at least she wasn't a hostage to a jibbering supervillain. But she didn't . . . quite remember the night. Had there been a Batfam encounter? Possibly? And then maybe a cop. And then more drinking, and dancing, and the cop laughing at her and-- then it was a blank.

Fucking blackouts. She never used to black out from drinking too much. She was getting old.

And . . . this wasn't her hotel room.

"Up for coffee, or do you need to puke?"

The cop was in the door to the bedroom, all low slung black pajama bottoms, and a shirt riding up to show a hint of her abs. She was smirking just enough to give her dimples, and Lucy suddenly remembered kissing her way down those abs, and the hands--unexpectedly strong--turning her and moving her into position.

She was even a little sore.

Nice.

"Coffee's good."

"Cool."

"So," Lucy said, moving into the kitchen to lean on the counter as the cop fucked around with the toaster. "We have a good time?"

"Mmm," the cop said, attacking the toaster with a butter knife. "You were all right. Promised me unforeseen wonders though. Can't say I wasn't a little disappointed."

Lucy bristled, deeply offended, clutching the coffee between both hands. "I was blackout drunk. That didn't count."

The cop raised an eyebrow. "Can't bear to not live up to the hype?"

"I  _ always _ live up to the hype!"

"I really can't say--"

"Shut up," Lucy told her. "Give me your number. Next time, I am going to blow your goddamn mind."

The cop examined her with both eyebrows raised. "Are you?" she said, a little incredulous. "Can't hurt to give you a do-over, I suppose, though I ain't chomping at the bit. But I guess we all have off days."

Lucy had never been more furious and insulted in her life.

She shoved the cop up against the stove and kissed her.

###


End file.
